


A Heavenly Decree

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Case Fic, M/M, Soulmates, Unfinished, don't worry John saves the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 19:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You may now kiss your husband.” Said the Reverend in a far too self satisfied voice. The tall and underweight man tilted his head curiously and with the slightest of sighs bent several inches down and placed a chaste kiss onto John's mouth. The church flooded with applause.John had been dreading this day his entire life. As traditions went it was a relativity popular one, on par with the Olympics. It was King Arthur who was to blame.





	A Heavenly Decree

For the lolz  
(This story has changed their birth years making them younger both born on 27th Jan 1989.

 

“And do you, John Watson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

John threw one last hate filled thought Harry's way, before giving the forced response of “I do.”

“You may now kiss your husband.” Said the Reverend in a far too self satisfied voice. The tall and underweight man tilted his head curiously and with the slightest of sighs bent several inches down and placed a chaste kiss onto John's mouth. The church flooded with applause.

John had been dreading this day his entire life. As traditions went it was a relativity popular one, on par with the Olympics. It was King Arthur who was to blame. Myths stated that the Angel Gabriel (who must have been bored due to having no duties to perform after informing a certain Mary that she carried the son of God) decided to tell King Arthur in a dream that the younger of a set of twins born upon the same day and within 3 furlongs (660 yards) of each other, and in the same hour were destined to be soulmates. This heavenly decree had set off centuries of arranged marriages between those twins who had the misfortune to be born second, upon a day that another woman had given birth to twins. The myth stated that peace and prosperity for the country was ensured every time such a match was made upon the twenty fifth birthday of the soulmates.

And so it was, regardless of science and commonsense it was on the 27th of January 2014 that such a match had been set to take place. The most important of the traditions was of course anything related to the monarchy, however these soul-mate weddings were the largest non royal tradition on the British Isles; and he, John Watson had had the misfortune of being born just after his sister Harriet and little over 30 minutes before the Holmes twins were born.

“This Is Ridiculous.” Stated Sherlock for possibly the millionth time, his voice echoing in the large scrap filled fitting room.

“You dare insult the wisdom of the long dead good King Arthur?” Asked Mycroft in mock seriousness.

“Fuck off Mycroft. Its most certainly not my fault that your fat arse prevented me from being born first.”

Mycroft looked at his younger sibling with a mild smile. Sherlock growled and turned to inspect his wedding tux. The only thing keeping him from throwing the damned garment into the Thames was the exquisite tailoring and the excellent material that his mother had happily paid for. Mrs Holmes had not spared any expense for her youngest son's wedding.

“You should simply be happy that John Watson was in no hurry to leave his womb, otherwise you'd be saddled with his twin Harriet Watson. I can not imagine a less happy pairing.” Mycroft sighed

Sherlock paused long enough in his inspection of the tux to give a full body shudder.   
Heaven forbid.

“Ah see, it's not so bad then is it Sherlock?” 

With a sudden turn of his wrist Sherlock threw a handful of loose threads and scraps of fabric on to Mycroft's pristine three piece suit, and with a self satisfied smirk Sherlock strode out of the fitting room with the knowledge that Mycroft would spend the next hour picking the multicolored threads out of his   
waistcoat.  
...

“Tell me again why you were in such a hurry to be born Harry.” John groaned as he lay sprawled across his desk chair. The university semester had just started and he had been forced to take the semester off for the absurd honeymoon period with a man he had met for a few hours when he was less then two days old. He had gone to his professors but it seemed that Mycroft Holmes had already had him excused from his courses and had even spoken to the Dean and had gotten all the paper work done. How was he supposed to marry Sherlock Holmes? He quite literally knew nothing about him other then what he had gleaned from those newspaper reports a few years back that had shown the youngest Holmes to be a drug addict and a menace to society. Had he known what was at stake, he would have definitively been born before Harriet. Definitively.

“The reason I was born first is because a little birdie told me that if I wasn't out first then I would be forced to marry someone who does not have a nice rack. I mean just look at Clara's.” Harry sighed as she tapped a picture of a young blonde on her phone, the blonde was wearing the very low cut shirt that Harry had given her for her birthday. “That Holmes kid doesn't have a gram of fat on him, even if he were a girl his boobs would be a cup size A and I do not date anyone with less then a C cup.”

“Fuck. I am marrying a druggie” John groaned into his elbow, ignoring his sister entirely

“He isn't a Druggie, that was just that one time John, I hear he went to rehab and everything.” Harriet explained. “Anyways no druggie would dress like that.” she indicated a picture of Sherlock that had appeared in a magazine.

“I still say that if he can afford a designer suit, he can afford cocaine.” John said.

Harry threw a pillow at his head. “Do Shut up John.”

...

Sherlock had very little interest in the wedding itself, however at his mothers insistence he had taken up the position of a wedding planners worst nightmare. The poor woman would try to do her job, but Sherlock chose to debate every colour choice, every fabric and every miniscule detail that he felt ought to be reconsidered. In his opinion the woman couldn't tell the difference between satin and silk. Much to his chagrin his mother insisted that this Miss. Hooper was indeed a qualified planner. Wedding planning wasn't as fascinating as a crime scene but Mycroft had him on lock down; Mummy he could outsmart, but Mycroft was a whole new level of 'big brother,' and arguing with an annoyingly stubborn Miss. Hooper was much more enjoyable then sitting in his room staring at white walls. As Sherlock strode up the aisle silently cursing the medieval King Arthur, he found that he didn't care that Miss. Hooper had won the debate over which colour the flowers ought to be, but rather his attention was drawn entirely onto the well built, and blonde haired man who stood at military attention at the alter. Before the reverend had even welcomed people to the celebration Sherlock had retreated into his mind palace searching several rooms for whatever scraps he had managed not to delete about the man he was due to marry. John Hamish Watson, born 32 minutes before Mycroft and 47 Minutes Sherlock's senior. Joined the army at 18, after serving for two years he applied to medical school with army support. If Mycroft hadn't intervened John would undoubtedly be forced to pay off his medical student debts to the army by countless years of future service but now John's education would now be covered by Sherlock's trust fund. In the front row sat Harriet Watson, John's older lesbian twin sister with an alcohol addiction, fate had been generous he supposed and not burdened him with a wife. Why Him? Just Why?

Sherlock heard a clouded voice in the distance asking a question, to which he answered with an automatic 'I do.' and several moments later a 'You may now kiss your husband.' caught his attention. With a hard blink Sherlock emerged from his thoughts, tilted his head, smirked internally at the height advantage he had over the military man, and with what he hoped was a blank expression leaned down and kissed his new spouse.  
…

John's face ached from the smile he had forcibly plastered onto his face as he had walked down the aisle holding his spouses arm, all for the sake of the cameras that were doing a live broadcast. These 'twin weddings' weren't all that rare, one every few years was about average. However the Holmes family was very well known, and had no intention of letting their youngest marry in a private ceremony. John's mother had grown up watching Hollywood movies starring Violet Holmes nee Du Bois, and Siger Holmes who more often then not starred along side his wife; Elizabeth Watson had gotten the chance to meet Violet Holmes after the doctors informed her of the 'soulmate' birth that had occurred with her delivery of her and Violet’s twins. And so it was that at the grand age of 26 hours, John Watson was introduced to his sleeping fiancee, while their mothers discussed wedding plans. However all these plans came to nothing when 22 years later Mr. and Mrs. Watson were killed in a car accident and John agreed to let the Holmes family set everything up so he could concentrate on his studies. 

The media coverage had begun following his parents deaths, and had only intensified as John grew closer to his 25th birthday. Everyone wanted to hear about the up coming marriage that according to the ancient story, would continue to bring wealth, prosperity and peace to their country. Unfortunately it wasn't long before the newspapers ran stories about Sherlock's addiction to cocaine and his visits to drug dens; however this information balanced with the fact that John was studying to become a Doctor, convinced some people that that made them even more compatible (John being the knight saving the poor prince from his bad habits) while others used it a proof that the soulmate thing was a farce. The majority of the population had decided that 'the poor prince' would find happiness with his soulmate and that he would stop indulging in deference to his new spouse.

“For God's Sake! Get me away from this tedium.” Were the first words that came out of his husband's mouth upon closing the door of the limousine that was decorated with a 'Just Married' sign. Sherlock then twisted his body suddenly and had gone digging his hand deep into the crease of the leather seat as if rooting around for something. John was about to ask what on earth he was doing when Sherlock's face abruptly lightened and with a look of relief with drew a hand that was clutching a thin and long long cylinder shaped object. John had never seen a face change so rapidly from happy relief to furious disappointment as when Sherlock realized that he was not holding the cigarette he had planted there but rather a large nicotine patch that had been rolled up to imitate a cigarette. “BLOODY MYCROFT.” Sherlock cursed and buried his head in his hands letting the patch fall onto the floor. John stared at the depressing figure sat across from him, before muttering a quiet “Alright then.” and with a sharp nod he turned and stared unseeing out of the window onto the sunny afternoon scenery.

The wedding celebrations were awkward, Sherlock had seemed to pull himself together long enough to be pleasant the whole time. They posed for pictures and managed to chat long enough to keep the press happy and convinced of their sincerity. The dancing had been horrific but John had managed not to trip over his own feet, and Sherlock had kissed him a few more times just for the cameras. Somehow in a blur of noise and activity John finally found himself being lead to a room and being told that Sherlock would be right up, John laid down and fell asleep long before Sherlock entered the room.

...Chapter 2...

“So......what do you do?” John asked awkwardly as they both ate the meal that the hotel had provided. It was nearing 1pm and John had been awake for 20 minutes. Sherlock had only just opened his eyes and was sprawled across the over sized bed, eating french toast with his head in a very twisted position.

“I'm a Consulting Detective.” Sherlock managed around his mouthful.

“Whats that?”

“I consult for the police whenever they are completely confounded. Which is unsurprisingly all the time.” 

“The police consult amateurs?” John asked in surprise, and Sherlock shot him a look of offended pride.

“I am not an 'amateur'.” Sherlock said in disgust.

“Do you have a degree then?” John inquired.

“I do not need one.” Sherlock scoffed in return.

“So you are an amateur.” John corrected.

Sherlock sat up glowering, and picked up the bedside phone and ordered a member of staff to their room. John didn't even have time to question Sherlock, before the door opened and in walked a middle aged woman.

“Yes Sir?” She asked.

“Perfect,” purred Sherlock adjusting the navy blue silk pajamas he was wearing. “Please say true or false whenever I say something about you.” Sherlock said before narrowing his eyes and giving her a quick glance up and down. “You are a 42 year old woman, mother of two boys both in their teens, you tend to be very disorganized,” Sherlock paused long enough for the woman to say 'true' before continuing “You grew up in northern England however your parents came from the Cornwall, you have a deceased brother and a sister who you are in almost daily contact with.” Again Sherlock waited for the woman to agree with his deductions. “You have been married twice and yet you maintain a good relationship with your ex husband, your dog has died probably within the last six months. Your kids do well at school but one of them has been getting in trouble with the teachers.” The woman seemed to be in shock but managed a nod before Sherlock continued on his tirade informing John of her financial situation and the upcoming wedding, and her allergy to latex.

“How? Did you-” Sherlock cut her off before she could finish her accusation. “No I did not stalk you or search you up on the internet, I am simply observing. John here was calling me an amateur and I had to correct his blunder.”

“How-” John began to say

“Simple really,” Sherlock interrupted. “There are several documents poking out of her apron pocket, all badly folded and crumpled, from there i can see her lack of organization as no neat-freak would even consider handling documents in that way. She picked them up at the post office on her way to work this morning and hasn't finished filling the forms out yet. On them I can make out the birth date that must be her own. Your phone has your two boys as the background, which i can see because its poking out of your pocket and whenever you move there is pressure on the on/off button and the screen lights up. Your sister sent you a text that began with 'last week i told you that' just now and i could only make out that first line and her phrasing makes it seem like you are in almost constant contact. You are wearing two very distinctive sets of rings, one engagement and wedding ring that were clearly bought at the same store, but one very different engagement ring, that suggests a previous relationship that ended but not badly, you don't wear his wedding ring seeing as that would be wrong, but you have kept his ring on your finger which shows that you do not hate your ex. You had a very hairy dog, I can identify it as a Charles spaniel hair but there isn't enough for the dog to still be around. Going by your age its more likely that its an old family pet that died and there are less and less dog hairs in your home to stick to your clothes. Your accent is an odd combination however the west county accent comes across as stronger then the northern one which suggests that at home your parents would speak in a west county accent, yet the fact you have a northern influence shows that you lived there as a child. You have a tattoo that states 'brother dearest' along with a death date on your ankle and among the papers in your apron there are two mid term report cards, on of which is considerably thicker then the other suggesting that one boy is more troublesome then the other. Your hair is dyed at home and you mend your own clothes, thus showing me your financial state as being not overly good, so why would a person not allergic to latex buy the more expensive non latex gloves that are currently in your shirt pocket? You are expected to attend a wedding but you aren't sure how to afford a new dress for the occasion, going by the clothing catalog you have written on that is mixed in with the school reports.” Sherlock rattled off in a blur.

“How?-What?” The woman questioned in surprise.

“If you leave without asking me anymore questions I will leave a 200 pound tip for you at reception, so you can buy a dress. Just go away.” Sherlock shooed her with a wave of his hand and the woman numbly stepped out of the door.

“That was amazing.” John said in awe

“Was it?” Sherlock asked, taken aback.

“Of course it was, absolutely extraordinary.”

“That is not what I am usually told.” Sherlock replied

“Ha, What are you usually told?” John asked

“To bugger off.” Sherlock smiled, John laughed.

“So why didn't you just 'deduce' me, you didn't have to involve that poor woman” John asked as he ate the last of the jam.

“I had already looked you up prior to our marriage. It would have been cheating.” Sherlock said as he shed his pajamas and slid into a black suit jacket.

“Oh. I guess you are right.” John agreed as Sherlock who in less then a minute had managed to look as if he had spent hours getting dressed, headed out of the room.

...

“How is the honeymoon going, brother dearest?” Mycroft greeted when Sherlock entered the main hotel lobby “I hope you are ready to go to the official honeymoon destination now.” 

“Tell me again why I can't just go back to London? There is more then enough space in my flat for John, if you wish us to keep up appearances.” 

“That wouldn't do, we need you two to be the perfect couple for the watching public. John has never been a free man, and every person in Britain knows it, so he has no chances of getting to meet anyone else in a 'romantic' sense.”

“Aren't we fortunate.” Sherlock sneered as he walked back towards his room to inform John of their imminent departure.

...

“So exactly how awkward are we going to make this?” John queried as he and Sherlock slid into the back of a car.

“Well for starters, my brother has agreed to permanently remove any surveillance devices in a 10 meter radius from my flat in Baker street, if I play a happily married man; although to you that might not seem such a big deal, I am most eager for him to get rid of all his bugs and I will play along for the duration of this 'honeymoon.'” Sherlock said with mild interest.

“I-Why would he-Wait never mind I do not want to know.” John replied. “Where is this Honeymoon location?”

“You will be so glad to learn that you took a semester off from university to dawdle around the countryside.”

“Are we going to a cottage or something then?” John asked ignoring the small voice at the back of his mind that was still angry over the delay in his education.

“Brother dearest has decided to give me the keys to a small cottage in Sussex. It has been in the family for generations and that much is obvious from the amount of 'knick knacks' that have cluttered it up.”

“I take it you are not one to buy souvenirs?” John asked. 

“Why on earth would I participate in the useless collection of redundant objects that do little other then inform visitors that you have the funds to afford long trips abroad. A century ago that may have been remarkable but today anyone can afford to visit the most boring corners of the earth.” 

Sherlock's sarcastic tone did not stop John from trying to have a proper conversation with the man the entire nation had watch him wed. “Been abroad much?” 

Sherlock almost looked surprised at the continued conversation.“Yes. Pretty much everywhere in Europe and South America. I intend to travel through Asia perhaps visit Nepal, and I have no intention of visiting North America.”

“Why not? They have some excellent parks.” 

“If I wanted to meet an American I would go to Trafalgar square and start a conversation with the least offensive looking tourist taking a “selfie.” As it is however I have no interest in doing that what so ever and even less interest in being completely surrounded by them.” The detective turned away and focused on the rapidly passing scenery.

“A bit prejudiced are you? I have always wanted to go see the Grand Canyon, it might be fun.” 

Sherlock turned back to him “What is so 'fun' about a giant hole in a rock? A hole is a hole whether is has a river flowing at the bottom of it or not.”

“The Grand Canyon is a fissure not a 'hole'.” John corrected.

Sherlock snorted. “When knowing the difference between a hole and a fissure solves a murder for me I will beg your forgiveness and publish a scientific journal on geology.”

“I will hold you to that promise.”

Sherlock would have scoffed had Lestrade not chosen the exact moment to call him.

...

Sally Donovan rushed into his office. “There has been another one.” She said throwing a pile of documents onto the desk. 

“Another kidnap and murder?” at Sally's nod of confirmation Lestrade threw his arms up.“What the bloody hell is his point?”

Sally shrugged. “No idea sir, why does anyone murder anyone?”

Lestrade looked up at her “I am going to call him.”

“He just got married yesterday! You can't call him!” Sally protested. “A poor random bloke has been saddled with Sherlock Holmes! For Christ's sake let the man think Sherlock is normal for at least a few days!”

“If the bloke actually knew the kind of work his new husband does then at least he will understand the need for their flat to be a bio-hazard.” Lestrade argued.

“Have you placed a bet yet sir?” 

Lestrade furrowed his brow “A bet for what?” 

Sally waved towards the other officers “A bet for how long before John Watson moves out of Sherlock's flat.” 

Lestrade stood up “You really think he is incapable of maintaining any sort of relationship, they are married for fucks sake I know that doesn't mean what it used to but divorce isn't really an option in these 'soulmate' weddings.”

Sally laughed “I said it wouldn't last 12 days. Are you going to chose a number?”

Greg rolled his eyes. “It is not professional, I haven't even met the bloke and you never know they might hit it off.”

“Oh please! You only bother with him because Holmes seems to always know the murderer, it's almost as if he wouldn't even have to look at the evidence to find the murderer.”

“What are you suggesting Sally?” Greg Lestrade asked in a low almost daring tone.

“Nothing sir. Call him if you must, I am sure his new spouse won't be scared off by the crime scene if he hasn't already packed his bags. One full day with that freak should be enough for anyone.”

“Just go Sally.” Lestrade sighed as the door closed behind her. Right where was his phone he needed help and it was very likely that this John Watson wouldn't join his husband, who would want to go to a crime scene when they could instead enjoy whatever honeymoon resort had been arranged for them?

...

“Hello Sally.” Sherlock grinned. “I am sure you are incredibly pleased to see me.” At Sargent Donovan’s obviously false smile he continued, “I am indeed forgetting my manners, John let me present my favourite of the Scotland Yarders, Sargent Sally Donovan.” John gave Sherlock an inquisitive look and stuck out his had and shook Sally's. “Sally This is John Watson.” Sherlock's fake smile suddenly dropped off and his entire demeanor went from friendly and open to closed and disdainful. “Where is Lestrade?”

“Over there.” Sally pointer to a police car where DI Lestrade was bent over retrieving something from the passenger's seat. Sherlock turned sharply and headed towards the car.

“Is he always like that?” John asked still mildly surprised at the sudden drop of Sherlock's faked pleasantness. 

“Yes, he has always been really excellent at feigning normal human emotions, but its only effective for a few minutes at a time it would strain his acting skills to fake an emotion he has never felt for longer then that.”

“Never felt? He isn't a psychopath.”

Sally pressed her lips together. “No but as he is constantly reminding us, he is a 'high functioning sociopath' If I were you I would not stay with him for very long, I'd hate to drag your body out of a skip.” John stared at her. “Be careful around him Mr. Watson.” Sally said before turning in the opposite direction. John raised an eyebrow before considering his options and after a short pause he turned towards the spot where Sherlock was yelling at a grey haired man.

“Anderson Did What?! If you really want my help then why did you let Anderson of all the blundering idiots examine the body?” Lestrade raised his hands in a placating gesture 

“I really have no choice Sherlock! There is a procedure to follow.” 

Sherlock groaned and turned to John “I am sorry I changed our destination, we should have gone directly to that drafty and vermin infested hut in Sussex instead of bothering with these idiots.”

“Sherlock!” Lestrade protested

“Fine. Details give me details.”

Lestrade took a deep breathe and considered that punching a newly wedded man was not a very gentlemanly thing to do. “Okay. Listen. At 3pm today and shout was heard here at Lanister Gardens a group of teenagers followed the sound to its source and found a young woman in that latter stages of convulsions as a result of poisoning. It was too late to save her but the boys swear she was saying 'Yellow band-ah' we have the poison in her blood but we can't find a match it could be animal poison but not one that we have on a database.”

“Sherlock mentioned that this wasn't the first one to happen.” John said causing Lestrade to remember his presence. “Ah no this is the 2nd one but we can tell when it's a serial killer and I would rather not have him kill again.”

“Take us to the scene then.” Sherlock said.

The room where the woman dressed in a black suit still lay was bare with mold growing in corners of the abandoned building, Sherlock muttered “Daughter” before inspecting every corner of the room. Lestrade and John watched in silent curiosity until Sherlock finally stood up and said “You were wrong.” 

“What?”

“You were wrong Lestrade. There will be no more murders our killer has stopped his spree.”

“I suppose that would be good news if it wasn't for the two dead victims.” John said, and Sherlock shot him a quick smile.

“Yes, I suppose. The woman said the 'yellow thand-ah' before dying, it is more likely that she was saying yellow sand but couldn’t move her tongue to make an 's' sound, the 'ah' bit must just be an exclamation of pain.. There are traces of tiny particles of sand in her fingernails which is a florescent colour of yellow. Going by her suit and general attire she was attending a business meeting I suppose her phone and cards were missing if you haven't been able to identify her yet, but that doesn't matter her birth-date was the tenth of March 1983 going by the tattoo that Anderson missed on her upper shoulder blade and she is married to an 'Oliver Ulbert' I am sure there aren't that many people in the phone book with that name.” Sherlock looked at his phone “Ah yes here is is facebook profile it says married to Donna Ulbert who looks surprisingly like this dead woman. Before you ask me, her birth-date tattoo also has her husbands name written underneath it with an infinity sign beside it. Tell Anderson that he could always become a rubbish collector.” Sherlock clicked his phone off and slipping it into his pocket continued “Look into her relatives, I am sure you will find the previous victims were related to her.” Sherlock turned to go gesturing to John.

“Wait Sherlock, how do you know there won't be anymore victims.” Lestrade asked.

Sherlock looked almost incredulous. “Really? Look at how sloppily this crime was carried out, no self respecting criminal would make his first victim almost impossible to trace, yes I know you struggled with the first body, and make the second one such a half arsed mess. Her black suit is covered with silver hairs, I am sure they belong to the murderer and possibly his cat. He let her scream, so either he was drunk and unaware of how badly he was proceeding or he thought she had passed out and lowered his defenses before realizing she had been faking unconsciousness and as a result of her scream he forced her hand into whatever tank filled with yellow sand in which lived the creature that injected her with poison. The murder was so rushed he didn't have a chance to be as though as he had been the last time. So the only way he will be able to carry out another murder is if you are so incompetent as to let all this evidence slip through your fingers. It's likely that he had an affair with someone and these two victims had found out and were threatening to ruin his marriage, so he took his pet scorpion or whatever for a little outing in it's sand filled tank.”

“Sherlock-” Lestrade began but the detective glared at him and looking at John said “Come on John we have a week to spend at the barely insulated shack my family calls a cottage.” 

…

The house was beautifully situated in a small grove of pine trees, far from the shabby descriptions Sherlock had made about the house it was a welcoming building with 2 levels and with 3 very small bedrooms, a petite kitchen and living room. John could imagine two people living in it pretty comfortably, but perhaps it was the overcrowding of two children that had made the place so distasteful to Sherlock. 

“It's not as bad as you described it.” John smiled as he inspected the tiny kitchen which had recently been restocked.

“You didn't have to live here for extended periods of time as a child.” Sherlock said, hatred clear in his voice. “At least this time Mycroft isn't here.”

“What is it with you and your brother?” John asked as he inspected the scenery through the window.

“He is a great fat wanker who can't keep his oversized nose out of my business.” The tall man replied.

John paused and raised his eyebrows “Older siblings are annoying. Harry kept telling my girlfriends that I was a 'soulmate birth' so that the girl would dump me.”

“Surely they knew that you weren't to be married until your 25th birthday.” Sherlock said in surprise.

“Yea but that didn't matter. How could a regular girl match up to a 'soulmate'? I suppose they felt that there was no point in a relationship that couldn't end in marriage.”

“How pedestrian.” Sherlock sniffed and walked out the door to watch the chauffeur drive away, leaving them stranded with slow internet and bad cellphone reception.

...

 

The first few days were spent with little more then a polite conversation about the weather. John was aching to ask about Sherlock's previous cases, but it wasn't his business even though he was married to the man. Sherlock spent his days reading studies on god knows what on his laptop and John re-watched all of the James Bond films, Sherlock was far too busy with his own reading to eat but John made food and left it beside him. Perhaps it would have remained that way if a drunk driver had not crashed into an electricity pole less then 5 km from the tiny cottage.

“John I am freezing.” 

“Use your bloody coat then!”

“But its all the way downstairs.”

“I am not fetching your coat for you.”

“Please.”

John looked up from his novel. That was the first time he had heard that word coming out of Sherlock's mouth, even though the man was constantly demanding things like tea or higher room temperature. “Fine.” and within thirty seconds he was back with the thick black coat that Sherlock wore. “When did the company say the power would be back on?” John asked.

“Two more days.” Sherlock groaned. “I only have 200 more pages left to read!There will be nothing to do once I have finished reading. I can't even find more reading material because my phone can't connect to the internet with such bad reception in this forsaken corner of Britain.”

“There are a lot of books downstairs.” John offered

“Novels. I do not have time to waste on novels.” Sherlock spat as he slammed his laptop shut, the battery was nearing critical and now he couldn't charge it. “This is absurd. If I am going to freeze to death I might as well do so outside.” 

John watched him twirl out of the room before firmly closing his own book, shedding the three blankets he was wrapped in, and leaving to join his husband in the windy and barren January landscape. 

“You must have enjoyed playing out here.” John said as he looked around the small wooded area Sherlock had lead him to. 

“Mother didn’t like having us out of sight, she felt that I would cause trouble if she couldn’t see me, so we weren’t allowed to come here without an adult.”

“That does ruin the fun of it.” John agreed “Is that a path?”

Sherlock looked at the trodden earthen path that had just come into view. “Yes, it is part of a trail that leads around the village, it doesn’t connect to our cottage but it is close.”

“A kilometre further down there is a fork and if we turn left we will end up at a creek, if we turn right we will arrive at the village.” Sherlock explained as he followed John out of the woods and onto the muddy walking path. 

“Does the village have a pub?”

“Yes.”

“Well then.” John smiled, “Nothing like alcohol to warm us up.”

Sherlock frowned “Actually alcohol warms up your surface temperature but your core temperature falls.”

John sighed. “Yes I know. I did do several classes about the human anatomy and narcotics.” Sherlock looked as if he wondered why anyone would say something they knew to be wrong. John ignored it and walked briskly towards the town.

The brisk walk and fresh air seemed to put Sherlock in a better mood and so by the time they reached the cozy pub Sherlock looked almost content. The bartender was a friendly older man who cheerily took their orders.

Sherlock stared at his pint suspiciously while John happily downed half of his own. “What made you want to become a consulting detective?” John asked taking a bite out of his fish and chips.

Sherlock smiled “A career counselor once asked me what I enjoyed, and I said I liked chemistry, biology and dead bodies. She also asked what I hated and I said paper work, authority and group work. So we both agreed that the police department was not for me. Mummy then suggested I become a private eye like the ones in those god awful films she loves, and I saw some potential. Why did you want to go to medical school?”

“I found biology interesting and I knew the army would be willing to cover my expenses.” John replied.

“Why did you join the army?” 

“Firstly, because I needed money. Secondly-well-because living here I was constantly in the tabloids as Violet Du Bois' future son-in-law and I was getting sick of it. In the army no one cares who you are unless you hold a higher rank.” John sighed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I remember getting teased in school for having a marriage already planned out, some girls were jealous I suppose but the boys found it hilarious that I was already tied to a ball and chain. One of my many nick names was 'Old Man John' and whenever they had a question or a comment to make about girls it ended up turning into a joke about my wife-to-be”

Sherlock hummed in sympathy. “One time someone drew a rather crude image of me getting penetrated by a dildo while wearing a pink princess outfit and begging my 'prince charming' to let me come. I think they meant it to be a reference to how knights in shining armor are supposed to be soulmates to those they rescue or some other such utter nonsense.”

“That's terrible.” John said taking a drink from his pint.

“It was terrible, the 'prince charming' looked nothing like you.” Sherlock smiled, and John almost choked on his beer. “Pink is really not my colour.” Sherlock concluded as he took a drink.

“Someone drew a picture of you in princess gear, getting violated by a dildo and you criticize the colour of the dress they drew you in?” John asked.

“Well if you want a more detailed critique I can describe the complete lack of perspective, proportion and the rather inaccurate female anatomy they presented me with.” Sherlock said dryly. John almost dissolved into giggles.

“Oh my God, we had terrible classmates.” John finally wheezed.

Sherlock nodded in agreement and plucked a chip from John's plate.

…

The long walk back to the cottage was decidedly more comfortable, the wind had died down and Sherlock talked animatedly about the different species of frogs that inhabited the nearby creek and what sounds Mycroft made when one was slipped down his shirt, tucked into his socks, or one one memorable occasion, what sort of scream he let out when he discovered one half frozen frog hidden in the waffle cone of his ice cream. The cottage was still without power but John dug up some dusty candles and Sherlock used an ancient weaved reed basket as tinder for the evening fire, reasoning that Mummy wouldn't miss the horrid thing that Great Aunt Margaret had brought back from Panama. John had discovered that Harry had packed his childhood journal into his suitcase with a note saying that bonding was important, so John brought it downstairs.

“You kept a journal?” Sherlock asked upon seeing the water damaged book.

“On and off yea. A hundred entries or so from ages 7 to 15.”

“Any highlights?” Sherlock asked leaning back into his comfortable chair. He looked slightly out of place in his expensive attire curled up on a tattered seat that had obviously seen better days.

John settled down on the floor facing him letting the firelight hit the pages.

“December 2nd 1997” John read out loud “I hate Harry, she stole my Boogerman. I want Santa to give her poo for Christmas.”

Sherlock laughed. “Did Harry ever give Boogerman back?” He asked.

“Boogerman was my teddy bear, I used to wipe my nose on him when I was sick so I named him Boogerman. And no, I found him under her bed a few days later.”

Sherlock grinned. And John flipped a few pages.

“March 16th 1999. Mary said she liked me and she kissed me, it was weird she licked my mouth like a dog or something. Cathy saw it and she told Miss. Kennedy and she told us that kissing on the mouth is for adults. Harry said that I can't kiss Mary because I have to kiss Sherlock. I don't even know Sherlock! I know Mary and Mum says that it's okay if I am friends with Mary. Harry is dumb and doesn't stop talking about how pretty Mary is, they are working on a project together for science class.”

“Should I be offended?” Sherlock asked teasing.

“Ha, if you want to be. Turns out that Mary liked Harry more then she liked me, they dated for a year when they were 15.” John replied.

“So was Mary your first kiss?”

“Yes she was. I had heard of people using tongues to kiss but I didn't actually believe people did more then press lips, it scared me a bit to be honest.” John said. “Who was yours?”

“Sebastian Wilkes in University..... It was a mistake.”

John nodded in silent concern. “A lot of mistakes happen in University. I think I once drank a whole bottle of Vodka one night before an exam.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “I am sure you passed that exam with flying colours.”

John winced “More like I wrote half of it and vomited. They couldn't rescue the drenched exam so I just went home and slept for a day.” He continued to skim the pages.

“You'll like this one.” John said looking up with a smile. “June 14th 2003. I saw a picture of Sherlock in the newspapers this morning. Mum said he was very handsome, Dad said that he should eat more. Harry told me that if I played rugby against him he would break like glass. I think he looks fine but I don't want to marry Sherlock, he probably doesn't even know how to play rugby, he probably plays a posh sport like Dressage or Cricket. Danny says that Jen won't go to the dance with me because it would be cheating on my fiancee, I told Danny that I am not engaged to Sherlock and that I can go to the dance with Jen, but Samantha told me that it's not romantic to date someone who already has a soulmate. I wish this whole thing was a secret so that I could date Jen! Mike says he'll ask Jen out, so I guess I'll go alone. I would ask Ashley but she is too embarrassed from last time. Maybe I should just run away so I don't have to marry Sherlock.” 

“What did you do to Ashley?” Sherlock asked

John smiled “Her father found the condom in her room. He wasn't happy.”

“Poor Ashley.”

“Did you ever play Cricket?” John asked

“No. And I don't like horses either. The only sports I did was light weight boxing and martial arts.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” John said genuinely surprised.

“Hmm, I was getting tired of being pushed around, so I learned to push back.” Sherlock gave a small grin “I once made it look like a classmate named Karl had run into a pole, when in reality I had used Baritsu to defend myself when he tried to punch me for telling him that Abby was never going to be attracted to him because she liked girls.”

“Did you keep a journal?” John asked.

“No. I suppose I never had anything in my personal life that I wanted to remember. I kept notes on my science experiments but nothing personal.”

“I gave up when I was 15 because I was too busy with my friends to have time to write anything down.”

“Hmm” 

Sherlock seemed lost in his own thoughts and John watched him stare into the fire, until he got up and muttering a “Good night Sherlock.” John climbed the wooden stairs up to his room.

…

“I will miss this cottage.” John said as he loaded his suitcase into the back of the black car Mycroft had sent.

“You will miss the drafts, the unreliable stove and the lack of internet?” Sherlock asked in astonishment.

“Well a new stove would be nice.” John said and nudged Sherlock who threw his hands up in mock exasperation.

“You have an odd sense of what constitutes a proper vacation.”

“Alright then Mister Detective Sir, what does constitute a proper vacation?” John asked.

Sherlock grinned “A triple murder in a locked room.” 

John sighed “I think I would be easier to enjoy a week away at a cottage, I mean how often does a triple murder come your way?”

“Not often enough.” Sherlock said sliding into the smooth leather seats.

...

John watched Sherlock as they neared the city. The detective had gone from quiet and calm to almost hyperactive, his knee was bouncing and when they arrived at Baker street he flew out of the car and almost toppled a short, sweet faced older woman who had opened the door. John allowed his bags to be carried in by one of Mycroft's men while the older lady introduced herself as Mrs. Hudson the landlady. She had been at the wedding and was telling him how beautiful the venue had been and how the cake had reminded her of her own wedding. John nodded and pretended that he too had enjoyed the wedding, until she lead him up the stairs to 221B.

John didn't know what he had expected Sherlock's flat to be like, but he had been imagining something posher then the oddly furnished and rather cluttered room he was now standing in.

“There's a bedroom upstairs if you want it.” Sherlock said as he picked up a stack of papers and relocated them to the bookshelf.

“Thanks.” John replied too busy investigating the kitchen to care. “Sherlock, why is there a chemistry lab in the kitchen?”

Sherlock turned to him “It had been in the room upstairs but Mycroft insisted I clear it out.”

John grimaced and opened the fridge.

“It's empty.”

Sherlock peered over his shoulder. “Before I left there were two sets of eyes, and a leg of a 37 year old meth addict. Mycroft told me he had incinerated them.”

“That is not very hygienic.” John said.

“No but it's much more interesting then food.”

“I suppose that explains why you are nothing but skin and bones.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the sheer inaccuracy of that statement. “I would hope that you as a medical student would know that it is impossible to only have skin and bones.”

“It's not meant to be taken literally.” John sighed.

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling in annoyance before digging through a cabinet and pulling out a box of instant alfredo pasta sauce. “Food.” Sherlock shook the small box and tossed it to John who began to read the instructions.

“Ahem” 

Sherlock and John looked up to see Mrs. Hudson standing at the door with a silver haired man.

“Hello Lestrade.” Sherlock greeted. “Come to satisfy your curiosity?”

Lestrade ignored Sherlock's comment and turned to John. “I am Greg Lestrade, I just thought I would stop by to see how married life is suiting Sherlock.”

John smiled and put down the box of alfredo sauce “Nice to see you again, Sherlock was telling me about some of the crimes he's helped you with.”

Sherlock scoffed “The cases I solved for him. He did nothing more then stand around looking confused.”

Lestrade raised an eyebrow at John “If he gets too abrasive text me and I'll block his access to the Yard until he behaves.”

Sherlock looked scandalized “I am not a child who needs to be given permission to visit crime scenes.”

Lestrade looked at him almost fondly “Yes you are.” and with a smile “If I left you unsupervised you might steal Anderson's toys.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the DI and with a flourish turned around and left the room.

“He isn't giving you any trouble is he?” Lestrade asked seriously.

“No, I actually enjoyed the week we spent at the cottage, it was nice.”

“Really?” Lestrade asked “I'm glad you seem to get along, but if you ever need a break you can kip on my sofa. I know Sherlock can be a bit overwhelming at times even if he means well.”

John smiled “Thanks. Would you like to go out for a pint sometime? It will get pretty lonely here, all my friends are back at the University so I won't see them until I go back.”

Lestrade returned the smile “Sure, Sherlock will have my number, just text me.” Shaking John's hand Lestrade called out to Sherlock who was probably pouting in his room “Be nice to John. He doesn't deserve bladders in the fridge.” grinning at the gruff noise that had responded Lestrade took his leave.

John took a look around the flat before examining the room upstairs. There was a small night stand and a twin bed sitting in a corner of the room. It was larger then his room at the University but just as dreary. He and Sherlock had used separate rooms while at the cottage, and although John would have been attracted to Sherlock had they met in a bar as total strangers, that was not the situation and John would not use an arranged marriage as a reason to sleep with someone. The 'Honeymoon' probably should have been enough to send him running, Sherlock was self-centred, rude and childish; But he was also caring, funny and highly intelligent, and John at the very least they could be friends. 

…

Sherlock awoke to the smell of pancakes, he had ignored John's invitation to eat alfredo last night, but now his stomach would not ignore the smell of food and was growling insistently. Poking his head into the kitchen he watched a rumpled looking John add the final portion of the batter into a pan. When they had stayed at the cabin John had always been wearing layers of clothing, but now in the heated flat he was walking around the kitchen in pajama shorts and white undershirt. His muscular arms and sturdy stomach were made visible by this lighter clothing, and Sherlock took a good look before noisily entering the kitchen. John turned around and something like attraction flashed in his eyes as he took in Sherlock's form clothed only in a loosely tied bathrobe. Interesting, that merited further investigation.

“Hungry now?” John asked piling two plates high with fresh pancakes.

Sherlock gave a nod before grabbing the plates and settling them on the table, John flipped the last pancake and turned off the gas.

“I used the last eggs, milk and flour making these. You have almost nothing left.”

“Shopping is dull.”

“It's necessary. We'll have to go to Tesco.” 

“Later. I have plans.”

Sherlock's plans involved sneaking into various state buildings just to show John how pathetically easy it would be to enter these 'high security' areas. If John had missed the adrenaline he had been subject to while in the army, he got plenty of it when a guard dog chased them across the prison yard after Sherlock made a tiny miscalculation.

“Dinner?”

“Starving.”

“I know a good place not far from here.”

“Lead the way.”

Sherlock flashed a grin and with a flutter of his coat he turned and walked towards a busy street John quickly followed.

Sherlock indicated a well lit restaurant across the street. “The Green Sapphire. Ever since the previous owner was imprisoned for murdering two restaurant critics, the new owners have really improved the menu, even the bread is fantastic.”

“Are there such things as green sapphires?”

Sherlock shrugged and crossed the street “The previous owner fancied himself a poet, the name is probably little more then one of his pretensions.”

“You don't like poetry?” 

“No, it's too abstract.”

“You just haven't found the right poem.” John said  
Sherlock dismissed the ide with a wave of his hand. “Don't be ridiculous.”

John allowed Sherlock to ask for a table for two, and he purposefully ignored the waiter's widened eyes as he recognized them. Thankfully Sherlock's uninviting glare made the youth remain strictly professional. They had soon ordered their drinks and were waiting for the waiter to return when   
something caught Sherlock's eye. Halfway across the room an older man and a woman chatted happily over their dinner but it wasn't the woman's low cut green dress that caught Sherlock's attention but rather the left hand of the brown haired man who was almost whispering into her ear, distracting her from the powder he was slipping into her drink. “STOP!” Sherlock said slamming his fist onto the table hard enough to make the cutlery jump. “Sher-?” John began but Sherlock was already across the room accosting a man in a suit, throwing down his fork he followed. The entire restaurant was in silence as everyone's eyes turned to watch as Sherlock pushed the man roughly to a column and pressed him against it with a cold stare. “John call the police.” 

“Okay, but whats this about?” John asked as he dialed 999.

“This creature was slipping drugs into his 'dates' glass.” The detective sneered before turning and saying to the young woman “Do Not drink your wine. The police will need it for evidence.” The young woman emerged from her state of shock and stood up 

“What on earth are you doing? Uncle Jerold are you alright? What is this about?”

Sherlock stepped back in disgust. “You are her Uncle?”

The man straightens his suit. “Yes I am.”

“You disgusting cretin.” Sherlock said in the coldest of tones before grabbing the mans arms, turning him and pressing his face into the column. “You use your position of trust to drug your niece?! She trusted you, and you planned on raping her?!” The man gasped and struggled against Sherlock's excellent hold but Sherlock only hissed into the man's ear “People like you are the ones who I would happily disembowel in a basement and leave no trace of who you once were.”

“Uh Sherlock the police will be here shortly.” John said looking around the room at the shocked faces and the angry owner of the restaurant who was storming in from the kitchen.

“What on Earth is going on?” Cried the red faced woman running her hands through her hair “Are you assaulting on of my customers?”

“Please do relax,” Sherlock grunted as he shifted his hold on the brown haired man “I am assisting the police by arresting this rapist.” The man continued to try and free his arms that Sherlock held locked behind him. “Move again and I will snap your wrist. Is that clear?” He asked, pressing the man harder up against the column. The man gave a short yelp in response.

“Rapist? Do you have any proof?” The woman asked looking at the young woman in the green dress who stood looking confused and disbelieving. 

“Yes, the police will find the young lady's wine glass full of a date rape drug. Even the idiots at Scotland Yard should be able to make a case out of it....and here they are now” Sherlock let his grip on the mans arm to loosen and instead grabbed him hard by the back of the neck and leading the squirming, undignified figure to the main doors just as an officer came rushing in. And they all headed to Scotland Yard.

…

“The test results came back positive,” Dimmock said as he entered the room. “Jerold Lanise had slipped enough Rohypnol into his niece's drink to have her out till Monday.” Dimmock fell back into his desk chair before looking up at the detective and the doctor. “The niece, Gemma, wanted to talk to you for a moment, please be gentle she has had quite a shock.” Sherlock nodded and turned to look at the door where a young woman of about 24 stood still wearing the low cut and well fitted dress, her eyes were red and a small trace of vomit still lingered on a loose strand of hair.

“I wanted to thank you Mr. Holmes. I do not know what would have happened if you had not seen him slip the drug into my glass.” 

John was watching as Sherlock's face filled with a combination of sadness and fury masked by a gentle smile. “It was my pleasure to assist you.” Sherlock said quietly. Gemma nodded before turning for the door. 

“Ms. Lanise.” The detective said and the young woman stopped and faced him.

“Yes?”

“There are still people who you can trust.”

Gemma gave a short harsh laugh but Sherlock persisted. “It might not seem like it I know but there are still those who-”

“Who wouldn't what? Try to rape their own brother's daughter? It was supposed to be a dinner to celebrate my birthday, he always took me to dinner for my birthday” Gemma said, her tone one of exhausted anger.

“There are still those who you can trust.” Sherlock fixed his gentle focus on Gemma's face until she nodded and left the room.

The ride back to bakerstreet was quiet and John didn't ask the question that had been forming until Sherlock was hanging up his scarf.

“You know...?”

“What?”

“You told Gemma that you knew it didn't seem like there was anyone she could trust.” John said stepping into the sitting room.

“So?”

John frowned as Sherlock's expression went from a mixture of unhappy contained anger to a blank stare washed clean of any trace of emotion. “So I was wondering what you meant by knowing.” Sherlock's expression became even more blank and hostile “I know a great many things John.”

“Clearly but rarely do you admit it about anything emotional, and you did admit to 'knowing' about emotions in front of Dimmock which is something that i never thought possible. You with your ideas on hiding your weaknesses from anyone and everyone especially the police.”

The silence that followed was deafening

Sherlock sliced the silence into sharp shreds with a “Good night John.” before turning towards his own room.

“Sherlock! I am sorry I didn't mean to-”

The detective turned so sharply that John almost feared he would drill a hole into the floor.“You didn't mean to pry?” Sherlock advanced until he was barely a foot infront of John. “My past is MY business you have no right to pry and I would appreciate it if you..” The words were choked off as John's hand landed on his shoulder and pressed gently. “It's fine Sherlock. It's all fine.”

Those words spoken in the same tone and the same manner as those that had been spoken by a vague memory from over a decade earlier drew up long memories that had been deleted repeatedly over since their occurrence.

“Sherlock? Sherlock!?” John asked before quickly guiding the suddenly ashen faced man to the sofa.

“It was you...I could never remember the details but it was you.” Sherlock's eyes focused on John who knelt in front of him on the floor in front of the sofa holding him upright.

“What do you mean?”

“It was you who in late 2004 came out of the Brixton public library with a friend and found a group of three men holding down a young teen in the alley way behind the building.”

“Yes.. I remember that. My friend Kenny and I accosted them and realized they were holding down a boy who looked about 10 who had red hair and was wearing a hoodie.” John recalled “The boy's pants were being removed and the kid was crying and saying 'No, please stop' so Kenny yelled at them and grabbed a metal pipe from a skip before using it to bash their heads in. When he was done he went for help and I checked over the kid....How did you know about that? Did you deduce it from my shoelaces” John was smiling but abruptly he paled “Oh my god.”

Sherlock slumped against the sofa cushions and John scrambled to his feet, and leaned over Sherlock.

“Where were you on the night of January 3rd 2004 Sherlock?” John asked gently

“I was undercover experimenting for how long I could keep out of my brothers detection. I had dyed my hair ginger earlier that day and I had spent the entire afternoon and evening reading at the Brixton Library.” Sherlock took a deep breath. “I had just left the building when three men who had been letting me stay at their apartment for two nights accosted me, called me a poofter, held me down and proceeded to remove my clothes. I can't remember the details, but I do remember two people coming and the men leaving while one of the new arrivals said 'It's fine, It's all fine' before the police came and took me away. I don't remember anything else.”

“Jesus.” John sighed and stepped back before plopping down beside his husband. “I had no idea, I guess that incident gave you a lot of trust issues.”

“I trusted everyone. A sheltered childhood does that. They had been so kind to offer me a place rather then sleep on the street, I just hadn't realized they expected me to 'pay' when I refused and escaped to the library, they waited for me, claiming that I needed to repay their hospitality” Sherlock exhaled staring at the ceiling John shifted closer letting his hand fall on Sherlock's in a gesture of comfort. “We didn't get there too late did we? I never had a chance to ask the police what had happened.” Sherlock turned his head and gave a small smile. “No, John your timing was impeccable. Thank you.”

“Well I am glad to have been of assistance.”

Sherlock's expression softened a bit and with a slow blink he turned his attention back onto the ceiling.   
“Why were you hiding from Mycroft in Brixton?” John asked.

“I don't like him, you might have observed that.”Sherlock said with a rueful smile. “Why were you in Brixton John? You lived in the north.”

John smiled pressing back into the surprisingly comfortable sofa “I was trying to get off with Kenny's sister.”   
Sherlock laughed “I am sure he appreciated that.”

“Surprisingly he really didn't. He invited me over for the holidays. I saw an opportunity and I took it. But that was not until a week after the library incident.”   
Sherlock looked up at John slowly “Are you comfortable with this John?” 

John looked up confused “Comfortable with what?” 

“With me being male.” Sherlock responded “I know with these soulmate marriages gender doesn't matter to the community at large but you aren't... I mean..”   
John tried to form a sentence but couldn't find the words so instead he sat up and said “Deduce me Sherlock.”

Sherlock paused and in a slow precise way sat up and turned to the side crossed his legs onto the couch and steepled his fingers. “John Hamish Watson. You don't like your middle name going by the slight wince you make every time it is mentioned, as a child you played football and as a teenager you played rugby, you broke your right arm once probably by falling from a tree and you sustained one concussion while playing rugby going by the scar that you still have just at your hairline. You entered the Army upon graduation possibly because all the men in your family were in the army at some point, your childhood was pleasant with the exception of the drunken rages your father went on, and alcoholism does run in your family which is why you only drink when you are suppressing memories or feelings. You enjoyed the adrenaline and organized work that you did with the army while abroad and if your interest in medicine had not come up then you would still be getting shot at in the middle east, however your respect for doctors only increased when you saw the army surgeons and you felt that it would be something you would enjoy doing.” Sherlock paused and studied John's face before leaning in close enough to breathe John's air. “You didn't leave a girlfriend behind in England, and I suspect you didn't meet anyone in the army to whom you felt a romantic attachment going by the fact that you haven't been in contact with anyone for over 3 weeks. Interesting. Your eyes shift when I mention army entanglements, you weren't abstinent while abroad where you? No of course not even knowing you were technically engaged to me, you still participating in intercourse. With locals? Hmm no. With a superior? Noooo, but you did think about it didn't you?” Sherlock kept a focused stare on Johns face, John was sitting upright and with a military trained blank expression only subtle shifts giving him away. “You had short lived relations with three no five of your fellow combatants. One female? No, there were two weren't there? Three males and two females, going by your dating record before leaving England you only dated females but this contradicts that.” Sherlock stared questioningly until John replied..

“I only had one night stands with men, the women I dated on average for about 3 months before they realized that I was a 'soulmate birth' and left because tradition claimed that I was already spoken for.” John said stiffly.

“Hmm, yes I think you consider yourself bisexual? So you would not then hold my gender against me.”

“Fuck Sherlock! Of course I don't care that you're male!” John protested

“Then why ask me to deduce you? There is something you want me to know but do not want to say yourself. A soldier must never show his weakness, but there is always a weakness, never one you want to admit to but it is there. What are you-” Sherlock paused eyes widening and he pulled back his mouth still open in mid sentence. “Oh.”

John slowly reached out his arm and wrapped his fingers gently around Sherlock's upper arm. “I just want you to know that if you ever want to 'consummate' our marriage I would be interested. If you would rather continue as we have been then that's fine too of course. It is up to you.”

Sherlock stared in shock at John this was a confession he had truly been surprised by. “I-I-I” He tried before managing to say “I am not a virgin.”   
John looked confused for a moment before smiling and saying “I didn't think you were, no one as gorgeous as you could possibly have made it through University with their virtue intact. Did you have girlfriends?”  
Sherlock shook his head mutely “Ah I see. Boyfriends then?”

Sherlock replied “Two separate relationships during university, neither ended well. I am capable of finding them aesthetically attractive but I have never been sexually attracted to any woman. If you want to categorize me then 'gay' is an appropriate label.” Sherlock shrugged.

“That wasn't what I was asking.”  
“What were you asking?”  
“I was asking what you wanted.”   
Sherlock stared at John trying to deduce everything he possibly could from John's phrasing. “  
“What do you want, Sherlock?”  
Sherlock stayed sill for a moment before leaning towards John and pressing their lips together.

It was almost a chaste kiss much like the one shared on the alter not long before, but Sherlock opened his mouth and pulled John closer, gasping as their bodies met and Sherlock instinctively began to fall backwards while pulling John on top of him. The kissing became snogging, and when John released Sherlock mouth and began to press kisses to his exposed neck, Sherlock was a flushed pink and hardly able to catch his breath without letting moans erupt from his mouth unbidden.”As much.....As I am en.....enjoying this, we should go to my room.” Sherlock managed and John hummed into his neck as a response.   
Standing up John extended a hand down to Sherlock who was a bit dazed. “Come.”   
Sherlock blinked and stood up. “Not before you do.” He winked and grabbing Johns hand he lead him to the bedroom.

John wasn't quite sure what to expect, Sherlock always exuded confidence and control in every situation that had occurred since the wedding. The detective sneered at the police and proudly spoke of his superiority to anyone who would listen. But of all the scenarios John had imagined, this one had never crossed his mind. Sherlock entered the room with confidence and proceeded to kiss John as if it was something he hadn't done for years, and the moment Johns hands began to unbutton his shirt Sherlock faltered and lost his grasp on his confidence, his kisses becoming hesitant, and his breath hitching. “Talk to me Sherlock.” John said gently stepping away but still leaving his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. 

“I-” Sherlock hesitated “I don't enjoying being penetrated.”

John gave a relieved laugh “Neither do I, if you ever change your mind tell me but it is all fine Sherlock.”

“I don't mind fingers, but....” Sherlock tried to explain.

“But anything more is unpleasant?” John finished for him, and Sherlock nodded. “It's fine Sherlock, we never have to do anything you don't like.” Sherlock gave a shy smile before pulling John's jumper over his head and dropping it to the floor. Sherlock stared in dismay at the shirt John wore under his jumper and proceeded to unbutton it. John watched him fumbling with the last one and saw the comical look of annoyance that filled Sherlock's face.

“Three layers?”

“It's February, Sherlock! It's cold.”

“Not cold enough for an undershirt, a shirt and a jumper.”

“Prat.” John said smiling, Sherlock flushed and he pulled the white cotton over John's head, finally revealing the skin underneath.

John reached again for Sherlock's shirt buttons, which seemingly sighed with relief at being released. Sherlock wasn't wearing anything under the fine white shirt, and his flat stomach was warm to the touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep not finished. Sorry.


End file.
